A while back, I picked up a lovely date at her parents’ home.
I’d scraped together some money to take her to a fancy restaurant.
She ordered the most expensive items on the menu…shrimp cocktail…lobster Patron…champagne.
I asked her, “Does your mother feed you like that when you eat at home?”
“No,” she replied, “but my mother’s not expecting a blow job tonight.”
a Parody of Paul Harvey’s “God Made a Farmer”
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